Skip to main content

Only You




My Prayer... Only You
by Carole A. Smith

Lord,
Give me the will and purpose to keep my eyes only on you.
Show me the path, you have laid out for my life.
With your light, illuminate it… by day and by night.

Guide me.
Instruct me.
Call me…by my name.

Walk beside me
Hold my hand...
Carry me when I am weak.

Open my ears and my heart so that I may hear your voice, Lord
…speaking to me at all times.

When you correct me,
give me the strength to obey.
When you praise me,
allow my heart to receive.
When you command me,
give me the courage to follow your way.

All that I have in this world is a gift from you.
Let me hold it with open hands, facing upward …back to you.

Turn my thoughts away from myself
and from all the things of this world,

So that I may focus upon
And follow
...Only you.




Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

I Am With You

...This poem was inspired by the Bible Study I'm in, covering the Book of Deuteronomy...  I am in a desert. I have lost my way. Oh Lord, speak to me... I need to hear you today! Remind me you are here. ...You've brought me this way. You have more for me! I need to hear you say... "You too have a Promised Land! Just look at my hand... see? Lean into my arms, gaze at my plans... Let Me set you free! Though your lost in a desert... Though you've lost your way... I am with you here, my child... I am with you today!" ~Carole A. Smith 10/3/12
4 comments
Read more

Life goes on...

Sunday may have been my personal proverbial five minutes of fame .   It was wonderful.   It was exhilarating.   It was nerve-wracking.   It was addicting.   And now it is over. I feel incomplete. Like something is missing. Empty. I am Empty. This troubles me, so I muse.   I analyze.   I dig around, within myself, to find a root.   To extract it.   Completely.   Like a weed, so that it will not spread.   So that it will not choke-out the good that I have planted.   Nurtured, painstakingly, until I saw the first blooms.   My garden is fragile.   Temperamental.   I must always keep a steady eye and ready hand upon the first shoots of a weed. So I dig.   I think back upon this experience.   It began a little over three months ago.   February 9 th , to be exact.   The moment I read the non-conspicuous call for local writers to audition for a reading of their personal story on mot...
3 comments
Read more

The Power of a Mother's Love

~ You held me within you. I was from you -of you -a part of you. But the day I came into this world, you gave me to the world. You left me… to make me better. But you left me to wonder of a mother’s love …and of my worth. ~ October 21, 1971.   I was born to a woman I wouldn’t meet again until I was 33, because the day I was born she gave me away. Although I do not remember anything about my biological mother, I am convinced my psyche must have been deeply wounded as a newborn.   After I found her, she revealed to me the social worker let her hold me one time in secret, as any direct contact between the mother and the child being given up was strictly forbidden by the nuns who dually served as the nurses in the hospital maternity ward.   I can feel, in my soul, the gut-wrenching sadness of holding her baby for the first and last time all at once.   I can feel, on my face, her hot tears, anointing me with her pain.   I can h...
3 comments
Read more